


To Truly Understand

by GlameowGal360



Series: Ultimate Eagles, Let’s Go Lions, Golden Memes [5]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Explicit Sex, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Oh look I wrote another smut fic who would’ve guessed, fun times all around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 07:34:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24467302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlameowGal360/pseuds/GlameowGal360
Summary: The threesome that spurred on three other twosomes and turned a throuple into a quadrouple.
Relationships: Claude von Riegan/Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril/Lysithea von Ordelia, Claude von Riegan/Marianne von Edmund/Lysithea von Ordelia, Hilda Valentine Goneril/Dorothea Arnault, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Leonie Pinelli, Raphael Kirsten/Ignatz Victor
Series: Ultimate Eagles, Let’s Go Lions, Golden Memes [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1724461
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	To Truly Understand

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone’s ages are between the pre-time skip and post-time skip, so they’re all at least 18. The Garreg Mach in this AU is a college.

Lysithea bites her lip as she stands outside Marianne’s room. This is her decision, and they’ll allow her to back out at any time, but she can’t help being nervous. All she wants out of this is some level of understanding, but what if things go further and they end up wanting more? What if she ends up wanting more? Steeling herself, she pushes the door open before her nerves can overtake her. Her eyes close as she braces for… Something. 

“Hey.” Claude’s voice is nonchalant as ever when he looks up from his phone to address Lysithea. He has to force himself not to laugh at how dumbfounded the girl looks: clearly the thought of them having a wholesome date night never entered her mind. 

Marianne smiles and sets down a book. Her expression becomes concerned as she notices just how uncomfortable their arrival is. “Is everything alright?” 

Lysithea opens her mouth to speak and immediately shuts it. A fierce blush colors her cheeks. “I-I assumed you were already—I mean why invite me if you weren’t even doing anything?” 

“Would you really have wanted to walk in on us mid-fuck?” Claude smirks when Marianne elbows him because he knows even she revels in the sight of a flustered von Ordelia. “We were going to start right when you sent those messages.” 

“I’m sorry to have interrupted.” To Lysithea’s credit, she manages to close the door and take a seat beside the bed. The moment she does, Claude makes a show of sweeping Marianne into his lap. 

“Don’t be. Waiting for an audience is always worth it.” Marianne takes her cue and pulls him into a kiss that Lysithea can tell is every bit as gentle as she is. For some reason, the action makes her heat up. It’s strange because her flushed state isn’t the result of being in a situation that, by all means, _should_ be awkward. No, it’s some other feeling that’s affecting her. 

“I’m gonna get you on your back.” Claude sounds so much softer than the cunning future leader of the Alliance should when he whispers to his partner. They switch positions and he begins removing her uniform. The process of unbuttoning and setting aside is taking such a long time that Lysithea is able to put a label on what she feels: anticipation. 

Of course, all of Claude’s motions are intended to provoke a response. If they were alone, he wouldn’t bother being this meticulous. When Marianne slides two of his fingers into her mouth, and wraps her tongue around them, he decides to move a little bit faster. Claude tosses her final layer to the floor and gets his mouth on her chest. 

Lysithea holds back a groan as heat wells between her legs. It’s not just anticipation anymore. As Claude’s lips move lower and lower she gets the urge to do more than just watch them. But do what? 

Marianne always gets a blissful buzz from her boyfriend’s touch: it’s familiar. What isn’t familiar is the pleasant tremor from a pair of eyes observing her movements. Being studied this intensely fills her with a sense of flattery. It spurs her to make this more entertaining. She pulls Claude’s face back up and gives him a _look_. He’s all too content to switch with her again and she’s more than happy to fit the entirety of him in her mouth. 

Their audience member gasps and squeezes her thighs shut, and when that barely helps, Lysithea abandons any sense of shame and resorts to using her fingers to take the edge off what she now realizes is arousal. She relishes in seeing his self-assured demeanor reduced to pleasured grunting while he clutches at Marianne’s hair. Her view of them is so perfect that she catches the exact instant when Marianne starts touching herself. 

“Oh holy fuck. Goddess this is so- _fuck_!” Seeing her actions mirrored throws her off the edge of a climax that’s intense enough to leave her slumped in her chair. Even after that, she can’t seem to stop moaning. There’s at least solace in seeing that Claude doesn’t last longer than she does. In her hazed state, she pictures how things would be if a certain pink-haired woman were present. If the normally reserved Marianne had no trouble taking the reins in bed, how different—or similar—would Hilda’s behavior be? As another whine escapes her lips, curiosity drives her to take out her phone. 

Claude really, really can’t take anymore of her just watching and not touching: not when she sounds so fucking good. He turns to ask if she wants any hands on experience and notices the phone in her hands. His smirk returns to him with ease. “Why Lysithea, are you recording us?” His girlfriend nearly grins. 

She drops it immediately. “Shit, I-I know I should have asked first, but I’m not actually trying to record you two. I, um, just wanted to get me.” 

__

After Hilda hears the message, she jumps Dorothea. The singer laughs into their kiss as they tumble back onto the bed. Their clothes are strewn across the floor, and the bare contact makes her head swim. 

“Someone’s, ahh, eager.” Dorothea can still speak despite Hilda leaving a hickey on her breast and getting a finger inside her, and that means she isn’t doing her job well enough. She isn’t doing her well enough. 

“Can I use a vibe on you?” Her question might be a bit much considering this is their first time together, but it won’t hurt to ask. 

Dark eyes gleam with mischief. “Afraid you can’t finish me without one, Hildie?”

She returns her gaze without hesitation. “No, but I think it’ll make this even better.” 

They go through her entire collection and end up choosing one that’s double-sided, but Hilda insists on getting it into the other girl first. She lubes it up and starts slowly, teasing Dorothea’s entrance with only the tip; when there’s little resistance left Hilda’s able to get a good portion of the toy in, and her partner shudders. 

“That’s good. It’s _really_ good.” Dorothea writhes at the feeling of being filled, and it hasn’t even been turned on yet. 

Hilda picks up her pace in an effort to hit her g-spot; she knows she’s found it when Dorothea’s head rolls back and her body tenses. It’s then that she hops on and gets the vibrator going. 

Dorothea screams for Seiros. 

__

It is nothing short of a miracle that Leonie doesn’t crash into anything on her way to Lorenz. She looks exactly how she feels: like a hot and bothered mess. Fortunately, he doesn’t appear to be better off when he lets her in. 

Leonie resists the urge to just pin him to the wall. Should she be less forward, or would he be into that given the circumstances? She goes for it and kisses him when he turns around. Lorenz reciprocates, but the way he conveys passion is far less aggressive. Even when she’s tearing his clothes off, he undresses her slowly, taking the time to trace every curve. They’ve fucked before, yet she still appreciates the extent of how different he is from her. 

He has no qualms about being the one getting on his knees. Unfortunately for her, that doesn’t mean he’s going to rush anything. Lorenz runs his tongue along her inner thigh, stopping right before her muff to leave a mark. 

She swears under her breath. “Dammit, don’t tease me.” Leonie grasps the bed sheets when he finally puts his mouth to good use and promptly gives up on being even relatively quiet. “Yes-shit- _yes_!” 

He adores the noises she’s making so much that he comes close to complaining when she pushes his head away. Any and all complaints die with what she says next. 

“I want to ride you. That alright?” 

“Without question-I mean yes.” 

A sense of smugness wells up in her at his blatant enthusiasm: she’s a damn good rider. Lorenz rolls the condom on and Leonie settles onto him with ease. She has to start slowly to get a sense for his body language. Soon enough, he’s all but begging her to speed up, so she does. A lot. The bed creaks frantically as Leonie tightens around his dick in ways that drive the nobleman to vulgarity. 

“Fuck that feels good…” Lorenz is attempting to keep his volume down, and the fact that he’s failing encourages her to work him harder. 

“Want me to finish you off?” 

He’s so close that he can only nod in reply. Thankfully, she’s quick to oblige. 

__

Ignatz and Raphael hadn’t intended to do much more than cuddle for the rest of the night; if they’d wanted action right away Leonie would be between them. However, one thing leads to another (i.e. one of them accidentally replays the audio file from Lysithea) and they start making out.   
  
  


“Can I give you a handjob?” They ask at the same time which sends them both into a torrent of laughter. Ignatz pulls a bottle of lube from under the bed and kicks his pants off while Raphael does the same. The two get their hands around each other and start stroking. 

“Ah-this is nice.” There’s a whine in Ignatz’s tone, and it would tempt Raphael to forgo his own pleasure to focus entirely on his boyfriend if said boyfriend wasn’t so good at what he was doing. He doesn’t think his handjobs are anything special; he just picks a pace and goes for it. Ignatz, on the other hand, has what Claude and Leonie call a painter’s touch: his fingers work with a delicate caress smooth enough to leave people shaking. Raphael is definitely shaking. 

“Kiss me?” The artist has his request answered immediately. Their kisses are usually soft, but this time there’s an intensity that threatens to set Ignatz on fire. Raphael’s hand is calloused yet gentle just like he is: that combination makes his heart sing whenever it’s used on him and now is no exception. 

If they’re alone, neither of them speaks much during moments like these. They’ve known each other for so long that it doesn’t seem necessary to fill the quiet with any words. 

__


End file.
